


Parting of the Sensory

by butyoumight



Series: We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-10
Updated: 2007-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/pseuds/butyoumight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The full moon had come and gone, but new moon or full didn't make any difference; in a month the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and thick black clouds blocked any hopeful light from reaching the earth, drizzling cold rain soaking the beach beyond where even the tides could reach.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Parting of the Sensory

**Author's Note:**

> The second (and thus far only other) part of my concept fic based on Modest Mouse's _We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank_ album.

The full moon had come and gone, but new moon or full didn't make any difference; in a month the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and thick black clouds blocked any hopeful light from reaching the earth, drizzling cold rain soaking the beach beyond where even the tides could reach.

Frank sat and stared at the water rolling ever closer with each wave, shivering in his skeleton hoodie. He wanted to help, but even he had to admit that moving heavy logs wasn't exactly one of his stronger suits.

He looked up when a warm blanket was draped around his shoulders. He tilted his head back, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Bob had the same smile, his usually sea-sky blue eyes a shade too dark-light, like ice.

Frank scrambled to his feet, and let Bob's arms wrap around him, holding him tight, for just a moment Frank felt like he'd never let go. He never wanted Bob to let go. He didn't know if he could lose anyone else.

They traipsed back up the beach, leaving footprints, one pair in Converse, the other in Etnies. Between the humid rain and the wild wind, Ray looked some type of menace, hair moving like it were alive, eyes flashing with hurt. The logs and drift wood were set up in a neat little pile, and that same broken smile flitted across Frank's face once more as he reached into his pocket, pulling out the Swiss Army knife he'd bought on a whim one day. He'd brandished it at Gerard, beaming with pride. _Now I can protect you_. That smile had been real. The sentiment an accidental lie.

He knelt down beside one of the three largest logs, taking the almost too small blade to the bark. He wasn't anything approaching artistic, so the letters he hacked into the logs were rough and sharp, almost hard to read.

As Frank worked his way down one log then onto the next, Bob moved around the makeshift pit, wrapping his arms around Ray and holding him the way he'd held Frank moments ago. Like he was afraid to let go. Ray couldn't bring himself to return the grip, but he leaned into Bob to let the drummer know it was okay.

The rain had finally tapered out by the time Frank was finished with his painstaking handiwork. He took a shuddering breath as he stood up, stepping back from the logs and returning the knife to his change pocket. He had tears in his eyes already. The words carved into the wood seemed to glow, reflecting a light that wasn't there.

 _Gerard Arthur Way_

 _Michael James Way_

 _My Chemical Romance_

Frank went to the others, and pressed himself against Bob as Ray pulled a small tin can out of his pocket, approaching the pile of wood and dry grass. He wriggled with the childproof cap, and doused the entire collection with lighter fluid, paying special attention to the carved logs.

He used the entire can before tossing it down in the sand, and returned to the others. He consented to wrap his arms around Frank, if just because the smaller man was shivering violently, and Ray knew it wasn't just because he was cold.

Bob pulled away just a bit, pulling a pack of cigarettes, Marlboros, out of his pocket, carefully sliding the book of matches out from where it was safe-kept against the pack by the still clinging cellophane. He pulled one cigarette from the pack, lighting it on a single match that he waved out before tossing towards the pit. He handed the cigarette to Ray, then lit a second, handing it to Frank. He lit a third, again making sure the match was out before he added it to their fire pit.

With a cigarette dangling between his lips, he carefully lit one more match, using the one to light the next in the book, the entire book going up quickly. Mikey used to do that, leaving the bus smelling like sulfur for the rest of the day.

He tossed the flickering flame onto the fluid-drenched pile of sea-grass, which caught fire with a heated crackle, flames licking up towards the dark clouds above.

They stood around the blazing fire, smoking silently and watching the flames lick at the carved logs, charring them smooth again, carefully erasing any trace of Frank's tampering.

Ray spoke quietly, his voice strained, as he struggled to hold back tears, the brothers of which were already making trails on Frank's cheeks. "Remember when Gerard cut his balls, shaving?"

Bob smiled weakly, nodding. "Or the first time we were all there to experience Mikey breaking a toaster?"

Frank almost chuckled before grief regained its hold on his throat. His voice was near silent, as if the words he was speaking were causing him physical pain. "Do you remember when the hotel booked us for a one bed room? So we all slept in the bed together, and it felt like we'd never break up?"

"Like we'd never be apart." Bob stated.

"Like we would always have each other."

Frank circled the bonfire, flicking the tail end of his cigarette into the flames, the smoke sitting heavy in the back of his throat. Ray and Bob couldn't help but close around the tiny man, the three of them holding onto each other in that tried and true way; like they never wanted to let go.

"I wanted to save him." Frank said softly. "Them."

"We could have tried, but..." Bob's voice was hurt, as if he were at fault.

"It would have just happened later." Ray's voice was pained, but set. He was determined. Determined to be strong.

"Do you remember," Frank choked. "When we finally just said fuck it? When it was finally okay for us all to just love each other? When we weren't brothers anymore? When we became... became lovers."

Frank was crying proper now, Ray and Bob held him gently. Bob had tears in his own eyes. Ray's eyes were dry, for their sakes.

"We should go." He said softly. Frank gulped, and Bob nodded.

The three of them turned towards the near-by parking lot even as the incoming tide began to lick at the blackened wood.

Frank curled up in the back seat of Ray's car, Bob taking Ray's hand between gearshifts. The funeral was tomorrow. They needed to get some sleep.

"Bob? Ray?" Frank's voice was soft, weak.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Frankie?"

"Promise me you won't leave me till you... till you have too."

Ray's strength broke. Tears trailed down his cheeks, he squeezed Bob's hand.

"Never, Frankie."

"Never."

Back on the beach, the tide washed over charred logs, the fire flickering out, the words carved in having been wiped away, taken into the sky as smoke and charcoal dust.


End file.
